YBR
by Cascade Waters
Summary: Sometimes home is in the last place you expect. WARNING: Contains non-sexual spanking. Don't like, don't read.


YBR

by firechild

Rated K

Disclaimer: I own the oc's herein, as well as the possible backstories. The song is an actual piece (likely a sea shanty) that we used to use to warm up in choir, and the tune is so close to the Dancing Princesses tune that I wonder if Zooey was in a choir that used that song and suggested it to the director...

Warning: Erm... extreme sap? OC, family stuff, spoilers for Tin Man...

A/N: This is a paltry Christmas gift for my Jax. _A ghra_ is Gaelic.

-----

"I'm going to kill her. That's all there is to it."

Wyatt Cain grumbled to himself as he pivoted, trying to take in all of the unfamiliar, and rather unimpressive, countryside, hoping to spot a (she better be contrite if she wanted to keep breathing) young lady getting herself back to the truck.

Nothing.

Nothing for some distance, actually. Except a lot of dirt. And a few strange, tall, straggly plants. And something blinking enormous eyes at him from a nearby field; it didn't move, didn't really seem all that interested in him, but he hadn't survived fourteen years as an active tin man in Central City by putting a lot of faith in the disinterest of something that looked large enough to swallow him whole and go back to grazing.

He cursed himself for not seeing which way the girl had gone, and swore once again that he was going to kill her just as soon as he was sure she was okay. He didn't know why she'd hied off this time, but then again, he never knew why or when she was going to get some fool idea in her head. And she'd claimed to be sort of lazy in this world, just working and drawing.

_Snort_.

He glanced at the truck, uncertain. He'd never seen anything like it before today, and while he could drive in a pinch, he didn't have a key and didn't know enough about the mechanics to improvise; besides, he wouldn't want to damage it. Oh, sure, the OZ had motorcars, but mostly they were big, fancy, ugly affairs owned only by the filthy richest (who also happened to be the filthiest rich.) The feel and smell of De Milo's wagon had made Cain's teeth itch. He liked this truck--he liked the size, the shape, the feel, the vibration of its engine. It was battered and the red paint was chipped in spots, the seat covers were faded and nearly worn through in places, and the cab smelled of oil and leather and sweat, and he thought that it was great. Cain was human, he'd wished at times to be rich, to be able to give his wife nice if infernally stupid things like cars, not that Adora had ever seemed to care about that kind of thing, but he'd never seen a vehicle that appealed to him until now. Adora would say that he was being silly, but a part of him envied DG's robot father for his truck and his mundanity.

Rejecting thoughts of his wife and trying in vain to stave off the inevitable stabs of grief and guilt, Cain sighed, patted the door of the truck as if it were a faithful deputy, and turned, choosing a direction based half on the fact that it was the direction in which they'd been going before DG had pulled over to "check out a rattle under the hood" and half on sheer aggravation. At least he'd only taken a few steps before he caught her trail, and not particularly wanting to cool off before dealing with the royal runaway, he started to jog because it felt good.

Last night at dinner, DG had said that she was going to slip back to take care of some things on her farm, but when the prince consort had roundly and soundly vetoed the idea, DG had surprisingly shut up about it. Then, this morning, Cain had caught her as she was leaving, a small bag slung over her shoulder; he shouldn't have been surprised when she'd calmly answered his questions with a reminder that she'd said that she was planning to slip and that that plan hadn't changed, and neither had the reason for it. She'd informed him that she was old enough to make her own choices and that she was less than convinced that Ahamo had any right to comment on her life in any case. Cain understood the feeling, even though he patently disagreed, but telling her that Ahamo loved her and was just being a father would not have helped the situation, especially as she felt she had a father and didn't need a second helping; knowing that there would be no stopping DG short of knocking her out and tying her to her bed, which had seemed mightily reasonable considering the subject, Cain had sent a series of hand signals to one of his hand-picked palace guards (ah, the perks of having been 'asked' to spearhead security for the royal family and reorient the city police force) and had gone with DG as a protector. He'd laid out ground rules for her security as they'd saddled and ridden a pair of horses away from the palace, and the girl had nodded in acknowledgment. Now, less than an hour in this world, she'd used the raised hood of her dad's truck to hide her escape, leaving him lost and mystified--neither of which tended to put him in a merciful frame of mind. Visions of him treating her the way he'd treated his little boy when Jeb had run away from home danced through his brain.

Oh, yeah. The princess was as good as dead.

And she knew it, too. DG huffed as she ran, knowing that Cain was going to be coming after her--counting on it, actually. And though she'd only known him for a couple of weeks, she had the distinct impression that he'd be planning to make an impression on her grave, which only fueled her hope that she was right about all of this, because she was pretty sure that if she was right, he'd be a little too... distracted to bother with murdering her.

Rounding the corner of Main and Market and bolting past the First Baptist Church, trying not to wonder how long it had taken before Cain had realized that she was no longer tinkering with the innards of the Ford, DG prayed that her until-recently-untested running endurance would hold up, and prayed harder that she was right. There was just something about the miniature portrait of his wife that Cain carried in a watertight pocket on the inside of his vest, something about the way he'd spoken of his Adora when the queen had managed to get him just a little loosened (a feat that had taken a flat order from the queen to consider himself off-duty and partake of the six goblets of aged wine that had been put in front of him in smooth succession--he wasn't really that big, so his tolerance for alcohol was kind of impressive) two nights ago at dinner, had niggled at DG, and she knew that she just had to test her theory.

Ah, finally. DG had taken a side road in the truck, hoping to buy herself time, so when the diner finally came into view, she nearly wept with relief, thinking that Cain had better thank her (befofe he killed her) for the price her body was going to exact later for this run. Ignoring the strange looks coming from the grizzled faces of the arriving lunch crowd, DG coaxed a few more steps from her legs, entering the diner with the thought that this distance running business was a lot harder when you weren't totally sure that your life was literally on the line.

Only a couple of people glanced up from the special of the day--'homemade' meatloaf and mashed potatoes, which both actually came from boxes because her boss didn't have the patience to make his own--when she burst through the door, keeping a grip on the handle as she doubled over, heaving for breath. After a few seconds, when she thought that her heart might not actually be about to burst out and soft-shoe over to the breakfast bar, she rested her free hand on one knee and raised her head. It was Wednesday, Carter's day off, and Vanessa wouldn't be in for another hour and a half, so without DG, there'd only be Miles in the kitchen, the assistant manager, and one server on shift. Where... ah. Bingo.

"Dosie."

The waitress on duty looked up at the sound of her name, hands loaded with plates for a table of four--someone had been smart enough to order the grilled cheese instead--and eyes loaded with weariness and irritation. DG had expected both, as ever since she'd come to the job green but fiercely independent and determined to learn, Dosie had always seemed overstressed and distant, and though she was rarely flat rude, it had always been clear that her mind was somewhere else even when she was accurately juggling eight different specialty orders and fielding DG's frequent invitations to her former trainee to hang out. As far as DG knew, Dosie had never encouraged any relationship that went beyond the wait staff's griping about Carter's assistant manager. What DG hadn't expected was the surprise and relief that replaced the irritation when the older woman recognized her.

"DG! Are you alright? No one's heard from you in more than two weeks--we all thought we'd lost you!" Though Dosie didn't move from her spot, DG thought that the sincere emotion in her voice was the closest her coworker had ever come to hugging her, and it felt pretty nice, all things considered.

But that was nothing compared to...

"--mit, DG, don't you ever take off like that! If something else doesn't kill y--"

The growling tirade--not even winded, DG noted with annoyance--pinched off and the impossible eyes widened as they fixed on the waitress with the messy brown bun and the ketchup stain on her gingham apron. The other patrons, normally totally self-absorbed, must have sensed something, because almost every head in the place was turned toward the tableaux at the front, and it was so quiet that DG could hear the tap running in the kitchen. Whether it was the man in the old-fashioned clothes who'd just pounded in at a run, the girl who hadn't realized that people might actually notice that she'd been gone, or the tired-looking woman looked like she'd just seen a ghost, something was holding everyone entranced. The silence, which had lasted maybe twenty seconds, found itself bent by a strangled half-whisper from behind the girl.

"_A ghra_?"

DG tore her confused gaze from Cain just in time to see the could-do-this-job-in-her-sleep Dosie drop all four plates, not even blinking as they shattered and food splattered across her ancient sneakers. The woman's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, her hands coming up to cover her mouth in shock, and then... she wasn't there. DG barely had the presence of mind to step aside as her former trainee hurdled the mess on the floor to fly at Cain. In shock but still Cain, the man caught the waitress, staggering a couple of steps back but keeping his balance as their eyes, and then their lips, locked, her hands working frantically through his short hair and over his neck and shoulders while his arms tightened as though he couldn't get enough of her into them at once.

DG felt like someone had taken all of the air out of the diner and replaced it with electricity, She watched, thrilled and more than a little warm herself, until she saw movement out of the corner of her eye.

"What is the meaning of this? This is a disgrace! I'm calling the sheriff to arrest all of you! And you, Miss DG! You haven't bothered to show up for work for nearly three weeks--how dare you show your face now! Dosie, you're fired--get your no-good friend out of my diner!"

When DG turned to meet the mud-brown eyes of the diner's assistant manager, a boy she'd known since third grade, all of the electricity crackling through her redirected itself. "Shove it, Sugarnose! This isn't your diner, Carter wouldn't let you have it if you were the last dweeb on Earth, and it doesn't matter how many free meals you give your daddy, he's too much of a man to arrest them just because you whine to him." She started to advance toward him slowly, and his eyes, already wide at her uncharacteristic snap and a sheer gall that he'd never seen from her, grew even larger as he began to backpedal. "Not that it's any of your business, you nimrod, but he's her husband. For years, they both thought the other was dead. Do you see how much he loves her? Do you have enough brain cells to put that one together from what you're seeing? Yeah, well, he could've been off killing everyone who'd separated them, but he stuck around to save my butt more than once, and she's our friend and has put up with your c for years, so we're gonna give them just as much time as they want to get reacquainted, got it?"

He nodded stutteringly, retreating to the kitchen to the tune of applause. DG let her eyes roam until she found the clapper--a lone woman in jeans and a man's flannel shirt, a stranger, sitting at the bar with an untouched plate of meatloaf at her elbow. DG quirked a half-smile and a shrug in her direction, then stuck her head into the kitchen and yelled for a grilled cheese plate and a slice of fudge pie for the lady at the bar, on the house. She didn't have time to register the grin she got from the woman in return as she straightened before she started hearing sound effects from the audience in the diner. She went back to her friends, watching with some amusement and wondering if they were planning to come up for air any time in this century. She thought that she should probably get them out of the entryway and the lecherous gazes of the truckers and farm grunts. DG studied the scene for a second, thinking that if this kept up, in about another minute, Sugarnose's daddy might just have grounds to arrest her friends for doing something on the diner floor (or on Table 2) that most of these people hadn't done in their own bedrooms for years. Not really wanting to have to explain to the queen why the captain of her guard was waiting for bail money, she decided that she'd have to appeal to the one in charge.

"Okay, Dosie, if you really wanna suck his face off, you go right ahead, but why don't we take this... outside..." The girl placed a hand on each friend and started to gently propel them toward the door. She realized too late that she'd forgotten to open it, but was saved the trouble by the traffic cop, probably the only time in her life that she'd ever been glad to see him. She nodded to him as her friends let her guide them out to the post that marked the single wheelchair space in the front lot, which was currently occupied by the patrol car.

Ah, the irony.

She heard the door open again behind her, and she could feel his eyes boring into her back. Refusing to turn around, she stopped walking and started to estimate the time it would take to get Cob Ingersoll to come and pick them up and take them back to the truck. The local towtruck driver split his time between his father's garage and his mother's feedstore, and today he should be at the store, which was abou--

"Okay, you can stop pushing now, Princess; I think we're outside."

The dry tone brought DG's head up to meet two pairs of eyes, one amused and one confused, in flushed faces. "Sorry, just had to stop and think for a second there."

Cain snorted. "Well, that's gotta be a first for you."

"Oh, ha ha." DG rolled her eyes. "You know you love me." Resolutely ignoring the badged bane of her Kansas existence, she started for the pay phone at the corner of the little building. She didn't see the look on Dosie's face at her comment, the speculation that was tinged with devastation; neither did Cain, as he was following her, his wife still tucked possessively under his arm. He heard her low whisper, though.

"You love her."

Cain chuckled to himself as he nodded, then stopped in his tracks when he felt her trying to pull away. He looked down at her face then, and it dawned on him. "Wait! You thought-- You think-- We--" He shook his head, incredulous, then winced and sighed. "DG!" His tone had the girl stopping and turning before she'd even realized that she was obeying him. "Clearly, you two haven't been properly introduced yet." He'd have been somewhat amused at the confusion on the faces of the obviously-acquainted women if he hadn't been so determined to show his wife that she was still the only one he'd heat up a diner with. "DG, this is my wife, Adora Mielle Watts Cain. Adora, this is Her Bratness, Dorothy Gale. It's her job to drive both worlds crazy, and it's my job to make sure she doesn't get dead in the process. Princess here has turned me into a glorifyed babysitter." He watched his wife's eyes widen as the name registered.

"Dor... you called her... but you don't call anyone 'Princess,' not even me..."

"Not unless they are." He smiled smugly down at Adora, who looked at him in understanding and then turned stunned eyes to DG.

"You're... You're _that_... The queen's..."

DG nodded. "That's what they tell me," she said wryly.

The older woman looked distinctly flustered, not a natural state for her. "But... but you're..."

DG smiled a little. "Yeah, not so much. But, then, neither are you." Seeing that the moment had passed, she turned and started for the phone again.

Cain was too pumped to indulge his irritation at being left out of the conversation, but he hadn't forgotten his job. "Where do you think you're going now?"

"To call a buddy who can take us back to the truck. Dos--I mean, Mrs. Cain, you wouldn't happen to have any change, would ya?"

Dosie had gathered herself and was once again standing firmly on her own two feet, as she had been for seven years--and if she did her best to plant those feet as close as possible to her husband, well, the worlds could just deal. "No, but we don't need any. Herbie's around back."

DG blinked, having forgotten all about Herbie. "Oh. Yeah. Um... no offense, but do you really think he'll, you know, go, with three of us?"

Already leading the way around the small building, gripping Cain's hand and rolling her eyes as she walked, Dosie said, "Oh, it was just that once. Cob looked at it for me in exchange for some mending, and he said if I keep taking care of him like I have, he should last at least another six months. He was even sweet enough to adjust my manifolds for me."

DG chose not to comment on either Cob's crush on Dosie, her surprise that the older woman had apparently made a friend after all, or the diner pool in which no one had given Herbie more than a month to live. Which was just as well, because she suddenly realized that she was walking alone, and turned in time to see Dosie unable to pull Cain anymore. The tin man had planted his feet and had the look in his eye that usually meant that he was about to draw. "Herbie? Cob?"

Wanting to leave before the cop in the diner could get past the shock of seeing her apparently dead self apparently, well, not dead, DG sighed and strode back to him, snatching up his free hand; she got why he was bristling, but they didn't have time for this, and she was suddenly very glad that she hadn't mentioned the crush. "Cob is the tow truck driver, he's a sweet guy who's real good with cars but isn't really all there in the head, and he's harmless. And Herbie is... well, you'll see in a minute." She gave a tug, but whatever silent understanding passed between him and his wife was what got him moving again.

A few strides later, the three of them rounded the back corner of the diner to see a battered, ancient, once-whitish VW Beetle with racing stripes. One of the tires was actually a donut spare; at DG's concerned look, Dosie blushed a little. "When you didn't show up for three days, I went out to check on you, and I think I ran over a nail and didn't know it for a few days. I just... haven't gotten the tire replaced yet. It's not a big deal."

"You came out to check on me? Seriously?" When Dosie nodded, DG smiled. "That's so sweet! But you can't drive for so long on a donut--you'll damage the rim, and then you'll really be in a jam."

Dosie shrugged. "I'm careful." Wishing that she didn't have to let go of her man, she pulled out a key and proceeded to turn it in the passenger door lock as she kicked the bottom of the door. After a sequence of kicks, something popped, and Dosie nodded approvingly as she opened the door. She climbed in and across to the driver's seat and then waved the others into the car.

DG climbed in and over to the backseat, hearing Cain mutter something about big ugly rich cars not being so bad. The inside of the car was worn but clean and free of personal effects, and DG settled back on the seat, ready to direct her coworker to the truck. She watched Cain settle uncertainly into the front seat, and wondered how long it would take him to start the interrogation; it didn't take long.

"Herbie?" He sounded distinctly unimpressed.

Dosie blushed. "It's a long story. I didn't name the car; my boss did, and it just stuck. Don't worry, cowboy, it's been a good little car, but it just doesn't move me like you do." She started the engine, and as the vibrations from the old motor rolled through the car, Dosie blinked and sat back. "Huh." She glanced over to see both of her passengers looking at her, Cain with one champagne eyebrow quirked in a breathtakingly familiar way. "I just realized that I may not be replacing the tire, or the motor, or the spark plugs. If you're here, then that has to mean..." She turned suddenly to face her husband with an intense gaze. "Tell me this means what I think it means."

His smile was slow and almost molten as he nodded. "Oh, it does--I'm takin' you home, Adora Cain."

Her exclamation was almost piercing in the small space, and it left the surprised DG smiling as Dosie drove them out of the parking lot and started down the road. She took them back to the truck but made no move to shut off the engine or get out of the car. When Cain looked at her in confusion, she smiled. "I'll meet you back at the farm. I have to go get something before we go."

Cain blinked. "Adora, we're going home. You can get anything you need there; we'll start fresh, and I guarantee that things will be better this time."

"I'm starting to get that," she said, ducking her head to look over as DG let the hood of the truck slam shut, "but I have to get this one thing."

Confusion wasn't Cain's best state in any case, and especially not when he thought that he had everything in his grasp and might be about to lose it. "Adora, come on, you can't want anything that bad. I mean, come on, what could be worth it? Let's just forget it all and go home, make everything right again."

She locked her coppery eyes on his silver-green, and her intensity and the stubbornness she'd passed on to her son rolled off of her in waves. "Wyatt, you know me--I'm not big on stuff, I could care less about trinkets. I'd love to just run away with you now, but I'm telling you that there's one little thing I've got to go back for, and I'm not leaving this world without it."

They were locked in a silent tug-of-war for maybe thirty seconds, and then Cain sighed; he knew his wife well enough to be aware that he wasn't going to win this one, and he had to admit that she had herself pegged--she was a beautiful woman with plenty of confidence and very little vanity, which was part of what had drawn him to her all those years ago. In the years of their marriage, she'd truly treasured only the pottery he'd given her as a wedding present, his ring, Jeb's clay handprint, and the hair ribbon Zero had taken from her on that horrible day. She was meticulous about what she loved, but she wasn't materialistic, so if she said that she had to have one small thing, he couldn't fault her. She was also stubborn as a Southland dirt stain, and while he might be able to take her to another world, once she dug in he couldn't move her. To her surprise, he dropped back into the passenger seat. "Okay, then, let's get it over with."

"You're... you're coming with me?"

"Well, I ain't letting you out of my sight now, not when I've finally got you back. Got a problem with that?"

She flushed, incredibly touched and something else that he couldn't identify. "You're gonna want to ride in the truck. And buckle your seat belt--I don't have the money to bail us out if my big bad tin man gets us arrested."

Cain rolled his eyes but quirked a little grin at her wry quip, having to take what he could get as he switched to the truck and told DG to follow his wife. Even DG was surprised when Cain told her that Dosie was insisting on taking something with her.

The perfunctory caravan wound its way back along the road and through town at the obligatory 30mph, drawing looks from people as they went. "Nice job back there, with that little snot in the diner."

DG glanced to the side, surprised that Cain had been paying attention to anything that hadn't been literally right in front of his face in the diner. But then, he was Cain. "No big deal. I've been wanting to let loose on him since I was nine, but his daddy's the sheriff, and even though Sheriff Henson is a decent guy, I was afraid of making trouble for my parents. And then Carter was the only one in town who'd hire me when I needed a job, so I couldn't afford to get myself fired."

Cain nodded. "All the same, I appreciate it. You called him Sugarnose?"

DG snickered. "Yeah--when we were kids, he stuck most of a stick of rock candy--that's basically crystalized sugar with food coloring--up his nose at the county fair. Normally I'd have let it die because I embarrassed myself enough as a kid and I know how it feels, but he likes to pick on people and make them look dumb; I guess he thinks it makes him look smarter. If I don't have to worry about my job anymore, then I decided I might as well stop resisting the urge."

"Ah." He thought a minute. "A stick of crystalized sugar? Wouldn't that hurt?"

This time she snorted. "Like he could feel anything in his overblown head. Nah, all of his nerve is somewhere else."

Cain grinned even as he thought that he should probably get onto her for being so un-princesslike. "Still, you'd think he'd know better at nine."

DG checked her mirrors as she followed Dosie through a left turn. "No kidding. You'd really think he'd know better at fourteen."

Cain threw back his head and barked out a laugh. "You're kidding!" He could see her shaking her head. "And I thought the OZ had idiots."

"Oh, trust me, you might have cooler fairy tales, but we have way better idiots."

He was quiet for a minute, and if she hadn't been expecting it, she would have missed his next question in the rumble of the truck on the brick of Main Street. "How did you meet her?"

"About three years ago, she came into the diner, asking if she could talk to someone about a job. Carter was in a real bad mood that day and wasn't really hiring anyway, but when they came out of his office half an hour later, he tapped me to train her on a trial basis. She turned out to be so good once she got the hang of it that I was sure Carter was gonna just fire me and keep her." She shrugged. "She's great. I mean, I can't say we're exactly friends, but she's always ready to work hard. I always knew there was something on her mind, but I could never get her to talk about it."

"So how did you know?"

DG flushed, keeping her eyes away from him. "There was just something about the way you talked about her, about some of the things you said, like the way she'd wear her hair when she was working on something and how she'd stand when she was annoyed and trying not to act on it. And the holos." She shrugged one shoulder, hating to remind him of the holograms and why they existed. Fishing for something, anything, less painful, she asked, "Any idea how she got Dosie out of Adora?"

That worked. He smiled a little. "That was my doing. I was on a case, looking for the Bush Bandit, and I had reason to suspect that there might be a witness. I went looking for this witness and was directed to a harvest party in this huge barn, a sort of co-op for the farmers of that village. I was so irritated, I would've rather chewed rusty nails than walk into that den of hicks and dancing fools, but it was the job, and the job was everything. So in I went, toying with the idea of shooting into the rafters and then locking the place down, making them all miserable right along with me. A woman came up to me and offered me some cider and a muffin--no real man drinks cider or eats muffins."

"My Pops does!" DG interrupted.

"You wanna think about what you just said?"

DG opened her mouth, found nothing to say, and closed it again. She gestured for him to continue.

"Thanks." His voice was drier than winter skin. "Anyway, I fended off a few of those offers, along with a few offers of marriageable daughters, and I was starting to get really steamed about the whole thing. I demanded to speak with AM Watts, expecting one of the farmers who might have seen Bushy the week before, so when this tall, willowy thing in a blue and green dress whirled over and took my hands, I'd had about enough. I yanked her up against me just so she'd stop moving, and I growled in her face to bring me AM Watts before I arrested her for ticking me off. I was looking almost straight down into her eyes because she'd arched her back, and I was being as intimidating as I could be." He shook his head at the memory. "She laughed. In my face. And then she smiled, sweet as you please, and said that she'd take me to Watts--after I danced with her. I refused, she insisted. I still don't know how she did it, but somehow I found myself out on that stupid dance floor in that stupid barn, dancing to some guy's commands. I think we danced four or five numbers before she led me out a side door to cool down, and then she kept her promise--she took me to AM Watts. Adora Mielle Watts."

DG didn't even have the good grace to try to hide her grin. "Did she answer your questions?"

"You could say that. Turns out she hadn't so much _seen_ Bushy as she'd, well, shot him. He was laid up in the village jail, waiting for me, which I'd have found out if I'd bothered to be civil. Teach me to crack on hicks again. Anyway, I have this way of labelling suspects and civilians so that I can keep them straight, and until she fessed up, the nicest of the names I had for her was Dosie Doh. When I told her that one night when I'd made a point of passing through her village, I thought she'd never stop laughing. And she's been my Dosie ever since."

DG cackled. "That's... that's...!! So she can outmaneuver, outtalk, outscare, and outshoot you _and_ your mouth? Yep, definitely the woman for you."

"You think you're cute," he grumbled.

"So when are you gonna tell her about Jeb?"

Cain sighed and sat back, vulnerable as he rarely was with anyone. "I don't know. May sound bad, but he hasn't been my first thought in the last hour or so. Don't get me wrong, I can't wait to have the three of us back together, but every time I think of that diner now, I can't quite get my breath for a second. It was sort of like that when I realized I'd found him, but..."

DG nodded. "But it was kind of hard to think of anything besides him for the rest of that day, too, huh?" She didn't look over, but she felt the grateful look he flicked her way.

"Tell you what, this has been maybe the most fantastic day of my life, and I don't ever want to forget it, but part of me will be real glad when it's over and the shock has worn off, when we can sleep like logs tonight and wake up tomorrow together back in the OZ. I've had my share of surprises. I'm ready to get back to real life." He snorted softly. "Tell ya what'd really shock me now--if your daddy doesn't kill you when we get back. Jeb ran off once when he was little, and I'd lay money he remembers he doesn't want to do that again." He shook his head. "I miss him being little and portable, but I bet you he's glad he's grown some and thinks I couldn't pick him up if I had a mind to. Kids."

DG waved a dismissive hand. "Ah, please. My daddy's living it up in Milltown, and Ahamo wouldn't know a lecture from a lily. Besides, as long as he's got his trinkets, he doesn't care."

Somewhere between the far outskirts of town and the nearest farmhouse, they pulled to a stop in front of a ramshackle structure that he could only describe as a squat with a large fenced backyard. Dosie darted out of the car and up the dirt 'walk' with what could have been eagerness or fear, and her hand visibly shook as she let herself inside. Cain was halfway out of the truck, all protective man, before he registered DG's hand on his arm. "Let her do this, let her get through whatever it is she's saying goodbye to. Remember, she's lived in this world for at least three years--which means that your blue smoke friend lied, by the way--and in, like, ten seconds, everything she's known has been turned on its head _again_. Now she's gotta get ready to go back to a world that was kind of a scary place when she left it. She probably needs one thing just to anchor her so she doesn't go crazy, could be as simple as a mug or one of those silly little pillows; we all need to feel safe."

"Oh, yeah?" He settled back onto the seat. Though he'd have liked to think that he was Adora's anchor, DG's words made sense. He looked more closely at the nervous young girl; he didn't remember her carrying anything when he'd first met her, and she hadn't even gone into what was left of her house when they'd picked up the truck. It made him wonder. "What was your one thing?" He didn't like the silence he got in response as she kept her face turned away, but he didn't have much time to brood over it before he saw motion from the corner of his eye. He looked over to see the door of the shack open and Dosie emerge, turning around to embrace an old woman he'd assume was the landlady. "Finally." He was in the middle of remembering the kiss in the diner again when something else caught his eye. "What..." His heart tripped. It couldn't be... "What the--"

This time he made it out of the truck, one hand on the windowframe in an unconscious need to hold onto something solid as shock flooded him again.

Dosie caught his eye and froze for a moment before valiantly pulling back her shoulders and starting down toward him. In her right hand, she held a large brown paper bag, and in the other... in the other...

The other.

She was tiny, only about waist-high, and smudged from the toes of her blue and yellow velcro shoes to the top of her black ball cap. There were holes patched in the knees of her dark green jeans, her tattered yellow shirt bore the word "Meteors" in black letters with a black number 7 underneath, and out of the dirty, freckled face with the upturned nose peered impossible silver-green eyes. She carried a stuffed monkey under one arm and tried to pull her hand free from her mother's with all of the strength in the other arm. She walked almost defiantly as she peered around her, and she was very loudly declaring that she wasn't "goin' nowhere 'til I catch that dumb ol' mouse." She didn't like her mother's reply to that, but there was very little she could do about it as they continued down the long dirt walk to the curb, and in any case, she was soon distracted from her struggle by the sight of the man gaping at her. She looked him up and down before their eyes locked, and this time when she stopped walking, her mother, seeing the connections being made, let her.

He was moving without even realizing it, not aware that he was no longer by the truck until his left knee hit the dirt of the path in front of the child. She pulled back fractionally before lifting her head and squaring her shoulders, refusing to give any more ground to her fear. "Mama, who's he?"

Dosie smiled softly as she crouched by her family. "He's your daddy. It's alright, baby, he's a good man. The very best." She fought to see through the tears in her eyes at this day she hadn't thought possible. "Why don't you say hello, show him what a big girl you are?"

Thoughtfully, the little girl sniffed. She'd stopped fighting her mother's grip on her hand, needing that security, but she was clearly determined not to be intimidated. She looked him up and down again, apparently pleased that he seemed a little less big when he was kneeling. Finally, she seemed to come to a decision. Trapping the monkey firmly between her elbow and her ribs, she stuck out her left hand as far as she could manage. "My name's Jax; what's yours?"

The breath he didn't think he had left caught again in his throat, and he glanced up to the side at Dosie, seeing her nod at him before turning to her daughter. "Tell him your real name, please."

The girl squirmed endearingly, screwing up her face for a moment in a way that only a small child can manage. "Do I hafta?"

Dosie swallowed a laugh. "Yes, young lady, I'm afraid you do."

"If you're afraid, then you shouldn't do it. Fear is your brain telling you to stop." The little head nodded sagely, though fear rarely stopped her from finding trouble.

This time, Dosie chuckled. "Nice try. You still have to."

Her daughter bit her bottom lip and let out a creaking groan. "Don' wanna. It's a dumb name; why'd I hafta have a girly name?"

Dosie sighed; obviously, this was not the first time they'd had this conversation, and just as obviously, she wasn't about to let it ruin this moment. "Because you're my beautiful girl, whether you like it or not, and I'm very proud to have you. Now introduce yourself to your father, please."

The child screwed up her face again, closing one eye and squinting through the other one at the man before her, nodding once as she managed each word. "Angetta Lalinda Esper Cain." She didn't know quite what to make of his expression, or what she could see of it through a third of one eye, but she saw him look up at her mama again.

Dosie nodded, and this time her smile was brighter than the suns at high noon. He looked back down at the girl in wonder, slowly reaching out a hand, which she watched with wary curiosity. He gently fingered a blonde curl that had escaped from the cap.

Dosie heard the distant roll of thunder and looked over to see steel-blue clouds gathered in the west. "I know this is a big deal for all of us, but we're going to need to move this home now, or at least closer to it; we don't want to be out here when that storm comes knocking."

Cain glanced back distractedly, then nodded and stood. "You need anything from the house?"

Dosie shook her head. "I've got my one favorite thing. Got it from this guy I knew a few years ago--nice fella; nice genes." Elated, she winked at her husband while her free fingers subtly massaged her lower back. He gestured to the Beetle, ready to lead them to it, but she shook her head and pointed at the house. "I mean it, I've got all I need right here. I told Hattie that I'd leave the car for her." Cain glanced back toward the house and caught sight of the old woman from the doorway peering through a window at them, looking very pleased and more than a little teary. He smiled and even found a wink to toss her, grateful to her for just the suspicion that she'd taken care of his girls, and suddenly had to fight down a laugh at the sheer joy of the moment.

"Do we need to invite your friend? Is she going to be okay? We'll make room for her."

Dosie smiled fondly toward the house. "I asked; Hattie said that we don't belong here, but she does, and she'll just look out for the next strays who need a hot meal." She snorted softly to herself. "She's been feeding these strays for three years now. I never told her where I came from or exactly how I ended up here, and she never asked. She just took one look at me with a toddler in the rain, looking for someone who could jump-start the Bug, and she made us hers. I don't know how, but I think somehow she knows, somehow she's always known; I think she maybe even thought that this day might come. It's enough to make me believe in her God--she's the third person who showed us kindness for nothing, and I think all three of them had more faith than I did. She calls it providence. I call it incredible."

Cain gave his wife a one-armed hug. "Let me go warn DG that we're all piling into her truck." Dosie nodded him away and turned to kneel in front of her--their--little girl to explain that they were going to go live with Daddy.

Anyone from either world with half a brain would recognize DG's actions in the cab of the truck as a victory dance of sorts. Cain rounded to the driver's side and pulled open her door. "You knew! You knew and you didn't tell me!" He was too happy to be truly angry, but he could have cheerfully wrung her royal neck at the thought.

DG tried to get a handle on herself. "No," she said, wiping her eyes on her wrist, "no, I swear, I didn't have a clue. I don't think anyone did, which is kind of amazing in a town this size. Cain, this is..." She was obviously having trouble finding a word for it. "Did you know she was...?" He shook his head, and her eyes softened as her grin turned to a smile. "That means she had to be... Cain, don't you see? It means that Zero lost on all counts! He couldn't kill her, he couldn't scare Jeb into submission, he couldn't drive you insane, and no matter what he did, _he couldn't stop you from raising Cain_!!" She knew that if he'd understood the allusion, he'd have made her walk all the way back to the OZ, but it was just too perfect not to say, and she was rewarded with a slow grin that she'd seen only once before, when he'd told her that he'd met Jeb.

Thunder, closer now, interrupted their conversation. DG was fine with playing chauffeur, but she warned him that they wouldn't make it back to the slip window in the north 40 before the storm hit. He thought they'd have time, and she just shook her head at him as he helped his ladies into the truck and then climbed in himself. He was a little surprised that the child--she insisted that they call her Jax--was fine with going and was more concerned that her monkey would have friends at the new place. Dosie shrugged at his inquisitive look.

DG was right--by the time they got to the near edge of town, it was raining so hard that she was struggling to see. Cain would have thought that a small child would have been afraid of the noise and the way the truck shuddered in the wind--Jeb had been--but she seemed captivated as she watched what DG called 'the only kind of carwash this bucket ever sees.' They managed to make it to the farm, and DG pulled up as close to the back of the house as she could, keeping them in the truck until she could fish out the blankets that her Popsicle had kept behind the seat, helping the Cains use them as rain tarps for a mad dash. Cain got Dosie and Jax onto the porch and then went back for DG, who'd insisted that she didn't need help but appreciated it anyway. DG produced the key and got them inside, pretending not to be fased by the destruction on the other side of the kitchen. She turned on a weather radio and learned that tornadoes were unlikely but that the stormline would last until the wee hours of the morning. Cain sighed but said that they'd leave at first light, and the adults went about setting up house for the night while Jax stood at the back window and watched the storm, conferring with her monkey on what kinds of magical things could come down with the rain.

The front of the house was gone, spread under the Munchkins' trees, but other than some fallen lights and hangings, most of the back of the house was fine. Cain was trying to imagine what the house might have looked like before the Travelstorm when he abruptly realized that DG had said that her room was gone. The idea of the Longcoats coming in and terrorizing her set him seething, and he finally admitted to himself that he'd felt a little paternal toward her almost from the first hour he'd known her. He didn't baby her now, she didn't need it at the moment, but he was proud of her for having the sheer brass to do what she'd done.

The paper bag Hattie'd given Dosie turned out to contain a picnic for three (Raw would have loved this lady, for her foresight and her fried chicken) and, with a venture through DG's mom's pantry, the picnic easily stretched to cover the four of them, who discovered that the high emotions had made them ravenous. They had what DG's folks would have called 'lupper' and settled in to pass the rest of the day and the night. DG found enough pillows and blankets to keep them warm and relatively padded in the cozy little living room, and she and Cain took turns tending the fire she'd started in the fireplace, grateful that the tinder box was on the deeply covered back porch. Once she'd exhausted her repertoire of board and card games and could see that Jax's full tummy and big day were making the little girl's eyes droop, DG padded off to use the master bathroom, which had survived while the bedroom hadn't, and didn't come back, having made herself a pallet in the hallway so that the Cains could have some privacy. She knew that they had plenty of challenges still to come--one had made itself very plain as Jax refused to acknowledge Cain's authority or to call him Daddy. DG told the little girl that she understood how Jax felt, and confided that she was having the same problem with her real daddy, but the young woman told the small child that Cain loved her and wanted the best for her, even if it was hard or weird or didn't always feel good, so while it was okay to not be sure about this, Jax should know that her mama and her daddy and her new friend were sure and would look out for her, too.

Once Jax had been tucked in on the couch (in being a relative term, as she was soon half-draped up the backrest) the older Cains sat on the floor, against the recliner, letting the crackling of the fire and the rushing of the rain mask their murmurs. It had been seven years since they'd been torn apart, seven years in which they'd each thought of all the things that they wanted and needed to tell the other, and now that they were together, the words seemed to dry up at first. Staring into the flames, they found for a few minutes that just sharing air was enough. Then Dosie felt something at the small of her back, and suddenly realized that Cain had seen her rubbing earlier and was trying to soothe her muscles. She closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath, letting her head fall back. For a couple of minutes, he just massaged, his concern over the knots in her back slowly ebbing as he realized that they had the rest of their lives for him to make her stress go away; he watched her face, wanting to kiss every inch, loving that he could still make this strong woman helpless.

She loved it, too, but she was afraid to fall asleep, afraid to wake up and find this all a cruelly wonderful dream, so while she didn't shift away from his fingers, she did find a place to start. "So, wanna tell me how you ended up babysitting the dead princess who happened to wait tables with your dead wife?"

Cain went through the basics, leaving out finding Jeb because some small part of him wanted to keep that surprise, to return the favor for all the delicious shocks she'd given him today. Then it was his turn. "How long have you been in this world?"

"Seven years."

His head came up and his fingers stilled for a moment as he processed that. He sat back again and resumed his massage, but she caught the unspoken demand. "Not long after... after that day, we moved, found another cabin. Jeb..." Her voice cracked. "Jeb insisted on hunting, though I'm pretty sure that he was doing more perimeter scouting than anything else--him and that slingshot, ready to fell the fiercest invader, wishing someone would try. One day, just after I'd discovered that I was going to have her, Jeb went out hunting for meat and for enough grain for me to make bread to settle my stomach--you remember how sick I was with him? Well, I don't know if it was the stress or the grief or what, but it was worse with her. Anyway, he was gone a little over an hour before a man came to the door; I was in a bad mood and he very nearly got his head bashed in, but he gave the blue smoke code, and I... I let him in. He was in a hurry, said that he'd get me to safety, that the Longcoats were looking for me and that I should go with him. I asked about Jeb, and he said that he'd find him and bring him as soon as he could. Wyatt, he was so reasonable, he knew who I was, who we were, and I'd heard stories... He promised that it would be safer where he could take me, and he told me how he'd taken his own parents through to get them away. He even offered to reprogram the holo generator to make it look like we were dead." She opened her eyes and laid a hand on her husband's chest. "Wyatt, you have to believe that I never would have run away, that I never would have left Jeb, if I hadn't had the baby to think about. The decision killed me, it just shredded me inside, but I didn't know what else to do. You were gone, and he promised that he would bring Jeb, but he never did. I'd drilled it into Jeb's little head that if anything ever happened to me, he was to cut his hair and change his name and do whatever he had to do to hide--I made him promise me over and over that he'd disappear, that the Longcoats would never know that he was still alive. I don't know what happened to him, Wyatt, he must have found a hole to hide in somewhere, if he survived at all; I would have come back to find him, but I didn't know if I could do that without losing the baby, and then after she was born, I--" Her tone had been getting more and more frantic with the need for both of them to understand, and he laid two fingers over her lips to calm her.

"Hush, Dosie Doh. I know you loved Jeb. You didn't run away--you did what you had to do to protect the one person with the least chance." He glanced over to the couch and the soft snoring of the--his!--six-year-old. "There were no easy choices then; if anyone knows that, it's me." He looked down at her, at the hand that she'd wrapped loosely around his, and he lifted his fingers so that he could trace her lips with the tip of his index finger before turning his hand to lace his fingers through hers. When his eyes convinced her that she need fear no censure from him, she relaxed a bit and suggested that they try to get some rest so that they would have plenty of energy to get reacquainted at home. He smiled at that and helped her to get comfortable before fitting his body to hers so that she could feel his heartbeat against her back.

"Jax?" he whispered.

Knowing what he was asking, Dosie replied, "Just before I lost my job in Granville and moved here, our neighbor had a foster son who thought that she was just a dumb girl until one day when he found her playing with his jacks. She refused to tell him her name because she wasn't allowed to talk to strangers, but she kept playing as he talked, so he started calling her Jax, and it stuck."

They'd been asleep for only a couple of hours when a scream woke them. Cain, who'd been dreaming of the faces of those he loved, was instantly in tin man mode, but Dosie sleepily said, "Jax... it's another nightmare, She has them every couple of nights, and I can't make them stop," and Cain, who was already on his feet and had already seen the little girl flailing on the couch, waved his wife back to sleep, deciding that children who needed firm hands, as this one did, sometimes just needed hands. He'd always assumed that there were massive differences in caring for a boy and caring for a girl. His wife was an excellent mother and already had a handle on this child, and now it was time for him to learn.

"Jax... Jax, honey, it's okay..." He spoke softly, then a little louder when that didn't help, sitting on the edge of the couch. "Jax, darlin', wake up. It's just a bad dream. He'd laid his hands lightly on the fronts of her shoulders, but that only quieted the screams; she was still whimpering, whining deep in her throat, and crying hard. Finally, the resemblence to Jeb struck him, and now, as then, he scrapped machismo and gave in to instinct, gripping her under the arms and lifting her to tuck her into his shoulder, cuddling her gently. He started to rock her from side to side, and when the old song came to mind, he just went with it, putting it to the tune of DG's Dancing Princesses song because he couldn't recall the original tune.

"Hey, oh, ay; hey oh, ay;

Hey, oh, nobody home,

Meat nor drink nor money have I none--

Still, I will be very, very merry,

Hey, oh, ay, hey, oh, ay."

He sang it softly three or four times, letting a surprising baritone wash through the room and through the bones of the little one in his arms, feeling her calming under his stroking hand. When she'd stopped crying and was down to sniffles and the occasional whimper, he felt a flutter at the juncture of his neck and realized with a jolt that he'd felt her eyelashes move as her eyes opened.

"Hey, sweet girl, it's okay," he murmured softly.

"D-daddy?" She whispered hesitantly.

Cain's heart stopped again for a moment, and he heard his wife suck in a breath. He still thought it was amazing what one little word could do to a big tough tin man. "Yeah, baby, it's Daddy. I've got ya; I'm here now, and I'll always take care of you."

There was a pause, and he thought for a minute that she'd gone back to sleep. "Mmmkaaay," she said sleepily, and then turned her head and snuggled into the sensitive point just above the juncture of his arm and chest.

A few hours later, Jax woke in her father's arms, only to doze off again ten minutes later in DG's.

When DG woke her to eat a little breakfast before they had to leave, Jax asked if DG had heard singing last night, and DG said, "Yeah, honey, that was your daddy singing to you to make you feel better, 'cause that's the kind of thing daddies do."

"Oh." The girl rubbed her eyes and squirmed a little and then settled down again. "What was it?"

"Well, I asked him that a little bit ago, and he told me that the tune comes from my family, which I already knew, and that the words come from his mama."

"Oh." She seemed to consider this. "I gots her name."

"Whose?"

"His mama. She was Angetta, too."

"Wow. That's good to know. So your name is Angetta, after your daddy's mama."

The child nodded. "And Lalinda."

DG drew a sharp breath. "That's my mother," she whispered, having decided that the name suited the queen.

"It _is_?" Jax pulled back to look at DG, who nodded solemnly. "Wow." DG didn't mention that her mother was the queen, as there was only so much that a little girl could process this early in the morning. "Does your song have words, too?"

Boy, this kid didn't miss anything. "Yes, it does. Would you like to hear them?" She felt the little head nod, so she softly sang the dancing song. When it was through, she let the child think for a minute.

"Oh. That's sort of a nice song. Only I'll never dance--dancing's for weirdos. But being a princess could be okay, I guess. If you didn't have to wear a dress."

DG snickered. "I hear ya, baby, I hear ya."

Jax yawned. "Mama said we're goin' home."

"Yup."

"Where's home?"

DG didn't really know how to answer that. "Well..." She thought a moment. "I don't know exactly where it is; I just know that I can get there."

"How?"

This kid was gonna be fun to raise. Or, rather, fun to watch Cain raise. "Um, well... I guess... It's like... It's like this old road that goes through there--it's all messed up now, but it used to be a road made of bright yellow bricks, and it led all the way to Central City, where most everything is. I guess finding your way home is a little like following the yellow brick road--no matter where you see the yellow bricks, they always lead back to the center. But really, home isn't a house or a street name. It's wherever your mama and daddy are. Your daddy isn't just taking you home to the building he lives in; he's taking you home to his heart, and you'll always have a home there, even when things are hard or when they hurt, because he loves you and he will do whatever he has to do to keep you safe. He doesn't have to know you for very long to know that you're precious to him. That's your yellow brick road--it's whatever leads you back to your family. Think you can remember that?" She felt the nod and hoped that she'd said something smart somewhere in there.

Half an hour later, the four of them slipped back into the OZ via a nifty pair of really uncomfortable (but very shiny) shoes with magic in the heels. The suns hadn't quite peeked over the horizon here, so the little group kept warm by walking. They'd gone a couple of miles and were still about an hour's walk from the palace (DG was hoping to sneak in with no one the wiser) when they heard a rustling. The sound quickly resolved itself into a bedraggled figure in a cap, a rough tunic, and matching pants with boots that didn't seem to fit. The face was dirty and tearstained, and there were deep shadows in and under the eyes.

"DG! Are you alright? You've had everyone worried sick! We couldn't track you here, and we couldn't slip because of some storm on the other side, and... Just please tell me you're okay!"

DG stopped walking and smiled, then quickly frowned as the figure got closer. "Az! What's wrong? You look horrible!"

The former face of terror in the OZ avoided everyone's eyes but her sister's, as was her habit since the witch's death, rushing to the younger princess. "I've been looking for you everywhere! No one knew where you were!"

Cain stepped forward after reassuring his wife that Azkadelia meant no harm. "I signaled one of my guards to get a message to your mother."

Az still wouldn't look at him. "Which guard?"

"Haloran."

She shook her head. "Caught yesterday in the ice cellar, trying to act out a dare; he'd stuck his tongue to a frozen bench, and won't be talking for some time." She ducked her head as if it was somehow her fault that this had happened. "I'm sorry."

Cain sighed. "Easy, princess; no one's blaming you," he said with a gentleness that defied the aggravation on his face at the thought of having to slap some sense into his hand-picked elite guards.

DG looked her sister over. "It's not your fault most cops are twits. Honey, we have got to get you inside somewhere--you're freezing!" She hugged her sister, trying to share some warmth, and both of them were surprised to find Cain draping his duster around Azkadelia. She gave him a shy half-glance.

"Thank you, Mr. Cain."

"Come on, Az, let's get you back before they realize you're gone." DG turned her sister back in the direction of the palace.

Just then, a scruffy little brown dog came running up, barked once, compressed, and expanded into a man. Toto still looked worn from his ordeal but had refused to, well, roll over and die. He turned to look at the sisters. "I'm afraid it's a little late for that. Come on, all of you, let's at least buy you some time to explain before your father kills you."

DG balked. "Oh, right, I'm real worried. Whoop-de-doo." The older adults exchanged glances at that but didn't comment as they started walking.

Held tightly on her mother's hip, Jax pointed one small finger at Toto, who had just gone back to being a dog. "Not cool," she declared with disapproving eyes. Toto whimpered, but DG laughed.

"Oh, wow, look, Cain--she's you!"

DG spent the walk quietly describing the events of the day before to Az, beaming when her sister praised her for uniting the family. They ran into Ambrose near the palace and he insisted on walking them in, listening to Cain's story about signaling the guard. Ambrose was sure that the queen would accept the explanation and appreciate that DG had been protected, and he made a mysterious comment about the queen not being the one to 'get your breeches padded for.'

Cain and Ambrose led the group into the palace and were met almost immediately by the queen, whose lavender eyes were bloodshot and swollen. "Oh, my girls!" She enfolded both of her daughters in a hug and held on for a couple of minutes before releasing them to look them over. Once satisfied that both were hale, she kissed each forehead and scolded them for scaring everyone. She made sure that they both looked sufficiently contrite before she glanced at the others and declared that breakfast was to be served early that morning for their travelers and that she wanted to hear everything; she fell in love with Dosie and Jax at first sight, which was mutual, and the queen was crouched down and conversing with the stuffed monkey in moments. Which was good, considering...

"Dorothy Gale! Azkadelia Jane!"

Both girls straighted, startled, and glanced at each other before watching their father stride into the room. He spotted his daughters and made a beeline for them, watching them close ranks to stand shoulder to shoulder. He stopped very close to them, looked them over, and then gave them both a fierce, loving hug. He cupped their cheeks as he told them that he was very glad that they were okay.

He stepped back to greet the rest, and the girls relaxed, thinking that if he could ever get beyond the first yell, Ahamo might actually make someone think that he could be in charge. He suggested that everyone go and wash for breakfast, hinting that there might be some sweet that made Dosie sigh with joy at the name. For once, his daughters were following his suggestion, starting toward the family quarters together, and his very loud, very sharp "Hold it!" startled them. They stopped but didn't turn, electing just to move their heads. He came up behind them, smiling, and neither recognized the glitter in his eyes as he casually laid a hand on each outside shoulder, leaned in, and asked them where they were going.

"Uh... to wash up, like you said? See, we do listen!" DG batted her lases for effect, hoping to amuse him so that he'd tell some stories at breakfast.

"Ah. Isn't that nice. Going together, I take it?" The girls nodded and his smile widened. "Jolly. That's just perfect, actually. I've been meaning to talk to you two about something, and it would be great to only have to go over it all once--it has to do with the new order, and you two are an important part of my plan, so I thought that now would work. Sound good?"

"Uh, sure. Let's do it after breakfast--I don't think Az has eated yet, and my banana bread has officially been walked off."

He grinned gamely. "Oh, don't worry, I'm sure it won't take too long--just long enough for the two of you to really understand what I have to say."

The sisters glanced at each other, thinking that this was weird but eager to do whatever they could to help restore order to the realm. "Okay, but can we go somewhere a little warmer? I'd always heard that castles were drafty but I never believed it until now."

Ahamo tousled DG's hair, then dropped his hands. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, I'm pretty sure we can manage warm. It's so nice that you like doing so many things together; it means that I can debrief you and warm you up at the same time." His smile fell away as he herded the sisters out into the hallway and toward the residence. Both girls looked confused. "Eyes forward, ladies. March. Let's go to Dorothy Gale's room and have a little discussion."

"What did you want to talk about?" Azkadelia asked shyly. "What about the new order?"

He raised his eyebrows at her. "Oh, my place in it. Your place in it. The place my hand will be if you're not in your place."

Before DG could do more than open her mouth, matching swats landed on both backsides. "Back to basics. First lesson. I'm the daddy. I love you. I want you to be safe and happy and smart. So you do what I say. And when I say, 'March,' I mean, 'March!'" With the last word, he landed another pair of swats, this time drawing matching yelps.

The yellow brick road takes on many traits in our lives; sometimes it's straight, sometimes it's full of hairpin turns; sometimes it's narrow, sometimes it's a six-lane highway; sometimes it has an HOV lane and sometime's it's a bike path; sometimes it's blissfully short and easy.

And sometimes it's painfully long.

_the end_

_a ghra- Gaelic "my love"_


End file.
